


Insatiable

by discountghost



Category: ATEEZ (Band), K-pop
Genre: Alternate Universe, Cursed!San, Dark Alleys, Demons, Human!Wooyoung, M/M, OR IS HE, Occult Bookstores, Porn With Plot, Really Bad smut lmao, San is whipped, Smut, Unicorns, Vampires, Wooyoung is Done, cawllection, how does one tag send help
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-03-29
Updated: 2019-04-19
Packaged: 2019-12-26 14:06:14
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 6
Words: 16,600
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18283811
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/discountghost/pseuds/discountghost
Summary: There’s a lot to be said about dark alleys, and Wooyoung probably has all the words for them.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Hello, fic’s unbeta’d and was posted impulsively pls send help.

Wooyoung is entirely aware of all the dangers that come with walking down a dark alley at midnight. But he’s also stuck with the fact that he’s been locked out of the house by his roommate - one he’s seen only once and apparently works the same part-time as him despite them never meeting - and the only way in is the fire escape. Which happens to be in the aforementioned dark alley. It’s not so dark when he first steps through the mouth of it, street lights able to reach thus far, but the further in he goes the darker it gets. 

He’s stopped by the sight of legs sticking out of the gradient darkness. His heart isn’t kind, picking up speed as he stared down at the figure. It’s just legs. Or what looks like them. For all he knows, they could be the mannequins from the store on the other side. He hopes they are. A step closer, deeper into the darkness, and it became apparent that his luck had run out for the night. 

It wasn’t a mannequin, though with how still the man was laying there he might as well have been. Clad entirely in black, he lay prone on the ground. The only thing that saved Wooyoung from finding a corpse on the ground was a subtle rise and fall of his chest. Much of his face was obscured by red and black hair, but the high rise of his cheeks were about as red - feverish, even. There was a slight shake of his frame, as if affirming the thought and pulling Wooyoung from his stupor. 

Basic first aid was in place for this kind of stuff. He remembered reading about it absently during his shift tonight but now he was drawing a blank. Hovering over the stranger, he glanced up and down the alley in the hope that maybe someone else would walk through. But, of course, it was the middle of the night in a dark alley he had just been nearly scared shitless to walk through himself. Huffing, he crouched down to lightly shake the man. 

“H-Hey. Hello? You there?”

Probably not the best way to wake someone, but at least it got a response. If you counted the soft groan and fluttering of eyes as one. The man could have very well just been drunk, in which case it wouldn’t be the best idea to leave him laying on his back. Slipping one arm under his back and pulling forward, the man’s eyes opened just a little more. 

It’s not every day you see someone with eyes that blue. Blue enough to shine dully in the darkness. They were trained on him, not quite confused but not all there. Hazy and glossy-eyed was this stranger as a small smile spread over his lips. His voice was soft and inviting when he spoke, but Wooyoung couldn’t make out a word of it. In fact, he wasn’t even certain if he was hearing right or if it was just the wind. 

It probably wouldn’t have mattered, though. Not as the stranger’s gaze held him - quite literally; he couldn’t move, stuck in place. Even if he wanted to, which he very much didn’t feel like he did. He didn’t think. He couldn’t think. Any thought was lost in those eyes and it only dawned on him that was stranger had moved closer until after their lips pressed together and he was back against the wall. The brick bit into the bit of his back exposed by the slightly raised fabric of his jacket and shirt. 

Wooyoung heard all the warnings about walking down dark alleys, but he didn’t think they applied to kissing strangers like his life depended on it in them. Warmth exploded through him, radiating down from his mouth as their lips slotted together and out through his entire body. The warmth grew to a burning heat as the stranger’s lips traversed down to his jaw, nipping at the skin on his way to the other’s neck. 

It had been entirely blissful up until that point, the frantic hammering of his heart resounding in his head. He’d forgotten how they’d ended up in this situation as the stranger licked at his pulse. A heady sound left the man, and then a short burst of pain. His fingers dug into the man’s shoulders but he was now an immovable force. All the weakness of before was gone as he was shoved roughly back against the wall again, held in place not by a mesmerizing gaze but a firm grip. 

But the pain didn’t last long, replaced instead by pleasure and the heat was back, building in the pit of his stomach. A tingle at the spot where he’d been bitten brought him back to the present, and now it was the stranger’s turn to hang off him as if he was the only thing holding him steady. There was another moan, high and pretty, as the stranger inhaled where he’d just bitten, hand trailing down to the growing tent in Wooyoung’s jeans. 

Exciting was not the word he’d use for this particular encounter but it would be a start. He locked eyes with the stranger once again, and it was the last thing he saw. 

 

When Wooyoung awoke, it was to the sunlight in his face. He wasn’t in the alley, but behind the front door of his apartment. It felt like he’d gotten the soul sucked out of him - but he couldn’t remember a thing. Any form of panic was lost at the sticky note on his chest. Passed out in front of the door. Get some sleep. It was probably from his roommate. Had he passed out in front of the door? That was on so many levels embarrassing, but it would be worse if he knew how many people had seen him. Or if anyone other than his roommate had seen him. 

He glanced down the hall to the door that lead to the other’s room in the apartment. It remained shut. No hope of getting answers from him. But the clock on the wall did catch his attention and get him scrambling towards the bathroom for a shower. He’d worry about his passing out after he made it to work on time. 

 

“So, I was wondering -”

“No.”

This was probably Seonghwa’s third time trying this, but he’d never in his right mind take the overnight shift at an occult bookstore. It was another one of those things you just _didn’t do_ and he’d be damned if he did. Regardless of how tempting that pay was. The blonde’s lip jutted out in a pout, but he said nothing for the moment, stepping away. The bright hues of his outfit contrasted drastically from the dismal dull colors of the shop. Wooyoung was no better, though. He noted as much when he passed by one of the decorative frames, silver hair probably the same shade the sleek metal was supposed to be. 

_HALA_ was one of a kind - to him, that is (and no - he didn’t know what the name stood for and it wasn’t like he’d ever ask). He was quite positive it was one of the only twenty-four hour occult bookstores in town, let alone the only one dealing specifically with the occult. The clientele had a way of coming in at odd hours and the employees were probably no better. The day crew, at least, he could handle. But his roommate was among the overnighters, considering they lived right within a five-minute walk of the place.

This was temporary, though. It’s what he’d been telling himself for the last three months. He just needed to save money to get out of town and then he’d be golden. And, sure, the people he worked with weren’t...terrible. Seonghwa was nice enough when he wasn’t attempting to get him on the night shift. His reasoning was sound (“You get a two dollar raise for these shifts”); no wonder his roommate could afford all the packages he got.

He focused back on the task at hand, which just so happened to be reshelving an entirely creepy set of anthologies on demonology. What anyone wanted with that sort of subject, he’d rather not know. Or even look at the covers. They were horrific, even if they weren’t gory. Just...unsettling.

Wooyoung shuddered as the last book was placed on the shelf and scampered off with the book cart in tow. He heard Seonghwa’s bracelets before he saw the man for his third attempt of the day. 

“It’s almost time for your shift to end, so I wanted to try again, especially because we need more hands tonight.”

“Look, I -”

“I spoke with the boss man and since this is a really important shipment coming in, he can do a five dollar increase.”

“Five?”

Five wasn’t that big a deal, but the pay was already close to fourteen an hour...five would throw him into a lucrative number next payday. Tempting.

“What kind of shipment?” Wooyoung didn’t outright agree but the question alone was enough to get the man smiling.

Seonghwa’s bracelets clinked together as he clapped. “Books, silly! And he’s thinking about stocking up the cafe. Sorta like a grand opening for it since we haven’t gotten much use out of it.”

They really...hadn’t. The cafe tucked in a dark corner of the store was one rarely visited by anyone other than the employees, and usually the overnighters at that. They couldn’t seem to draw people in, but there had been some hope when they hired Seonghwa and Wooyoung. The former had been hired to bring in a sunnier sort of crowd, according to his explanation. Nothing worth questioning.

Eyes narrowed, he considered it a bit more. Again - it was a highly stupid idea to stay overnight at a store like this. He’d heard plenty of stories relating to bookstores at night that didn’t involve them being specialized in the occult and none of them were good. “How long’s the shift?”

“8 to 7. You’ll have one of the early birders filling in for you at 6:45.” Even more tempting.

“Fine.”

The answer was met in a sound not quite human, but obviously supposed to be pleased. Almost like the neighing of a horse, but not right. “Since you’ll be in tonight you can just go now. Get a few hours of sleep!”

He was still wondering whether he should have said no as he usually did even after he did get that blessed extra three hours of sleep. It gave him ample time to assess the situation with his neck, too. It might have been from the party last night - a makeout session gone friskier than intended - but something told him that wasn’t it. There were only two little marks in his skin and it looked like they were already scabbing over. At least, they felt rough and close to healing if not looking slightly darker than the rest of his skin. Best not to upset it and stop poking, Wooyoung decided. 

The shift was supposed to be something of a party, as far as Seonghwa had told him while shoving him out the door. Normal working attire would be too stiff, so settling on dark jeans that weren’t terribly ripped up and a shirt that draped a little loosely seemed casual enough. But he was unsatisfied and thought a nice jacket and a necklace would be okay. 

There was one thing about this that made things interesting. It would be, officially, the second time that he was seeing his roommate in the flesh. The man was not that much taller than he (maybe like an inch difference), but his presence made him seem bigger than he was. As quiet as Yeosang was, the man kinda filled up a space. Dark eyes were lined with eye shadow and eyeliner, making the widening of them slightly comical as he noted the other walking out into the hall. 

“So that’s what you look like,” Wooyoung joked. They still had time before needing to leave but he was usually out of the house by this time. 

“You’re -“

“Still here? Yeah, also going to work with you.”

The other’s eyes grew wider, with looked like alarm. He took a moment then to inspect his roommate’s choice of clothing. A black trench coat that covered up pretty much everything else, but he could see combat boots and a flash of red in all that black. 

“Why?”

If he were anyone else, Wooyoung might have been offended. “Why can’t I?” It was meant jokingly, just the hint of a challenge in his tone. Yeosang flushed, looking away. In this light, he was pretty; soft in a way that kinda screamed to be protected. Not that Wooyoung would ever do so. 

“You’re right. We should probably go so we’re not late.” 

The words jumbled together as the other stomped towards the front door, snatching his set of keys from the rack by the door. Since they’d be coming back the same time, he figured there was no reason to grab his own. Wooyoung trailed after the man, shutting the door behind him so it could be locked. 

 

 _HALA_ was alive. More alive than it was in the day. An assortment of folks walked through the door, the bell chiming and a procession of greetings being raised. Yeosang stood at the register, gifting customers with smiles that satisfied them more than their purchases. The cafe...was something he hadn’t checked on, but mostly because there were a cluster of athletic gear wearing folks that were slightly more boisterous than he could handle sober at the moment. The aesthetic of the store seemed to change drastically with the shift. He wondered if Seonghwa ever went home because the man was trouncing up and down the aisles with a fresh batch of cookies. His smile was still bright and there were customers that seemed drawn to him like moths to a flame. He didn’t question that. 

But there was a sort of silence that fell as a particular couple entered the shop. A hush that came with the chime of the bell. No loud greetings, not even a cough. Nothing. He peeked out of the aisle he was stocking, finger lingering over the spine of the book. Only one of the pair seemed to have the humility to take his hat off, all black attire matching. The other kept his fedora on, hair hidden by it and face partly obscured by dark sunglasses. Sunglasses? At ten at night? 

Wooyoung scoffed, just as the conversation started back up again. He didn’t bother looking for the pair once more, moving down the aisle as he stocked each shelf. It was slow going; the shipment was as big as Seonghwa had claimed. A whole three aisles on witchcraft alone. And this time, he wouldn’t be too pressed to think that these could go quickly. He was partway down the aisle when he heard someone come to a stop behind him. 

When he turned, it was one of the men he’d seen before. A cup of something in his hands, he stared down at the other, waiting. Sunglasses. “Can you help me?”

Standing upright, Wooyoung nodded. “What do you need?”

“I’m looking for Cassander’s third edition on demon-witch symbiotic deals. I was told it’d be in this aisle.” 

The man’s voice was higher in pitch than he expected, soft and steady. Lips red, reflecting some sort of seriousness as they pursed together. Wooyoung didn’t know much about Cassander, but he knew a whole lot about pretty lips, and he was staring at a pair now. The man cleared his throat. “If it’s not yet shelved and can’t be given out yet, I can wait -“ he paused to seemingly look at his name tag, “Wooyoung.”

“Oh. Uh.” Being tongue tied didn’t happen often. Wooyoung hadn’t been like that since his first boyfriend in high school, stuttering out a confession that was half-heartedly accepted. “Gimme a sec and I’ll get it for you.”

“Thank you.” The other nodded, turning slightly. No smile, nothing else. There was a tension in the air that followed in his wake. And a familiarity Wooyoung couldn’t place. 

Because he’d been asked, and not because he wanted to impress or anything, he went looking for the book asked of him. Everything had already been scanned into the system - thank Seonghwa and Yeosang for being so quick about that - so it was a lot less to worry about once he did find it. The cover was red, gold etched into the form of a fantastic figure that could be described as distinctly not human. Totally bizarre, but this was what the man he asked for. And now it was a matter of finding him again. 

He was there in the cafe, and from where Wooyoung could see him, he’d finally taken off his sunglasses. Which was better, but his hat was still on and the brim drooped enough that he couldn’t see the top half of the man’s face. His coat was still draped over his shoulders, held there by a silver chain as a turtleneck clung to his torso. His dress pants were a little too dressy for the party but Wooyoung wasn’t anyone to judge. Once or twice, he’d caught Yeosang staring at his collarbone in something of a trance before snapping away. There were customers that did the same but at this point, his assumption that the night clientele were thirstier than the daytime ones was set in stone. 

That same gaze was directed at the exposed skin of his neck, the man freezing. Whatever word he was about to say his companion was forgotten, hand hovering over his drink. It was probably the angle, this time around. He watched the man swallow before directing his gaze to the book. 

“Cassander. Third edition.” Wooyoung held the book up triumphantly, a smirk on his lips. 

“That’s the one.” The exchange was short, but this time he was rewarded with a smile. And the man took off his hat. There was another flash of familiarity at the revealing of the red streaks in black hair. Or maybe it was the eyes. Eyes as blue as the sky, or maybe the sea, stared up at him imploringly. 

Then he blinked and they weren’t out in the cafe anymore. Instead they were huddled in the bathroom, the stranger at his neck and an odd sense of deja vu socking him in the gut. Unease pricked at the back of his neck, disrupting the very lovely sensations of soft lips pressed over his pulse. Not too eager, slow and sensual. 

The man seemed content to nip at his collarbone, teeth nicking the skin but not quite breaking it. Little red dots decorated his skin as the man went lower, a trail of heat following. A heat that felt too familiar and left his limbs weak. Wooyoung was regretting the choice of jeans this tight, a growing erection straining against the fabric. A whine left him, using the hand not twisted in the stranger’s hair to guide the other’s wandering hands down to his crotch. 

The cue was enough, the other palming Wooyoung through his jeans with the fervor he so needed. But lower still the man went until he was on his knees and the deja vu hit him a little harder. Except not quite deja vu. A remembering of sorts of something exactly like this happening before. Each passing action felt like a loop, even the hot breath of the stranger over the sensitive glands at the head of his dick. He’d give it to experience when the man wrapped his hand at the base loosely, but there was something there. 

Something in the way he looked up through his lashes as his mouth wrapped around Wooyoung and a wave of terror courses through him. The very quiet thought of _he’s about to suck your soul out through your dick_ would usually be enough to spur his hips forward - it kind of did, jerked forward into the man’s hands and further past his lips - but there was a fear of that statement being very real. 

“What are you?”


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> wowie look at that a second chapter. I’ll enjoy seeing everyone trying to figure out who’s what.

There were a lot of things he’d heard said to him in this position, but never _What are you?_ Certainly not while he had a dick in his mouth. But he can play this off; he’s done it before. San was still clumsy where memory was concerned. Not like he had ever wanted to be able to force memories into the back of someone’s mind. Or want to find himself on his knees in a dingy bathroom for a meal. 

He smiles slightly around the tip, pulling off. A wet trail followed in his wake, glands an angry, anxious color. A soft kiss, a distraction as bright eyes looked up at the other. Wooyoung shouldn’t be remembering. At least not this fast. Maybe after he’d gotten a meal and that veil of familiarity was at its thinnest. But someone remembering this soon was new to him. 

“What do you mean?” There was the hint of teasing in his tone. The other didn’t seem so amused by this. “Most people don’t ask someone about to give them head that.”

A shuddering scoff, and then San was being shoved away. This was progress in a direction he’d never dealt with before. Whatever the man - Wooyoung, there on his nametag close to that pretty collar bone - was remembering, it wasn’t good. “Consider this a sign that you’re not giving me a blowjob.” Wooyoung tucked himself back into his pants, zipping them up with a sort of finality that would have been comical in any other situation. 

San wished this was some other situation. 

Out of hand. So to speak, that’s how this was going. “And the last time you gave me head, I’m pretty sure I passed out.” Something venomous was in those words, but they didn’t quite deliver the same way. Not the way they had so many years ago. 

“Whatever you’re thinking, you’re wrong.”

“That you’re some sort of serial molester? Yeah, I’m probably really wrong.” 

The giggle that was punched out of him by the statement was probably uncalled for. Most definitely. Wooyoung glared down at him, before proceeding to head for the exit. “I don’t want to be anywhere near you, you stay the hell away from me.” 

“Listen, I can explain-“

“Hell no! I’m calling the cops next time I see you.”

No good. _No good._ It was hard enough to explain this sort of thing to a single individual, but the authorities? A calm resolution would be unlikely. Panic pushed him up to his feet, quicker than the other man, and to block the door. 

“No, _really_ , I can.”

“Get out of the way.”

“If you would just listen-“

“Move!”

“Listen!”

Maybe there were better ways to avoid a disaster like this. Maybe there were better responses to someone trying to shove you out the way than to shove back. Especially when you were a lot stronger than them. Mouth slightly agape, San watched as Wooyoung’s head slammed against a stall door. The only saving grace of this was that there wasn’t the dull crunch of a skull cracking, but it had still been enough to knock the poor man out. 

The door knocked into his shoulder as it opened, a too bright Seonghwa poking his head in. A grin on his face, it fell as he took in the scene. There was silence and then - “Did you just kill _another_ of my coworkers, San?”

—✥—

His head was killing him. 

The light in the room was dim, but still too bright for his eyes. Voices floated out in space, recognizable but detached from the source. 

“...it was an accident; I panicked.”

“I’d like to kindly ask that you stop panicking so often. We should be glad he’s not dead.”

“But he _remembers_. That’s not supposed to happen.”

“Maybe you should think about brushing up on those memory erasure skills. I’ll have Yeosang set a couple out for you to pick up tomorrow-“

“This isn’t a joke!”

“What isn’t a joke?”

His own voice startled him, strained. Tired. He felt tired, and heavy. And, among other things, confused as to how Seonghwa of all people could speak so calmly to his attacker. He could remember being shoved into the stall hard enough for him to blackout, his throbbing head an unpleasant reminder. The blond had the gall to look pleased with his consciousness. 

“Hey, how’re feeling?”

The man had put his sunglasses back on, brows furrowed over the tops of the round metallic frames. A notable distance had been put between them, with Seonghwa as some sort of buffer. “Like shit.” Despite the start of a headache, he managed a glare over at the man, who turned his head away. At least he had some sense of shame. 

“Why don’t you go home, then. I’ll have Yeosang take you back.”

Going home sounded like a great idea. Better than anything else he would have come up with. Maybe then he could call the police without being thrown into a stall. “Yeah. Please.”

The man’s lips pursed like he wanted to say something, but nothing came. Instead, he moved out of the way when Seonghwa left the room, presumably to get his roommate. Which meant he was left in the room with the stranger (a bad idea after such a good one was proposed). Great. 

Wooyoung sat up, hissing. The pain intensified with the change in position. The stranger, for his part, seemed uncertain of what to do. But he stayed away and that’s exactly what the man needed to do. 

“There’s an ice pack by your head.”

It came maybe a minute or so into their tense silence. He wouldn’t admit to being mildly grateful for the cool press of the pack against his head. He wouldn’t need it if it weren’t for the man across the room. How long was Seonghwa going to take? The other remained by the wall, again with that look like he wanted to say something. But Wooyoung wasn’t in the mood for excuses and there was no way whatever he had to say wouldn’t be just that: an excuse. He was saved from the potential of it ever being voiced as the door opened again, this time with Yeosang peeking in. He glanced between the two already in the room. 

“Wooyoung, can you stand? Need help?”

“I got it.” It probably came out a little harsher than he’d intended. He’d apologize for it later, but not with _him_ present. He struggled for a minute, waving off the other as he stepped further into the room. “I said I got it.”

Yeosang nodded, glancing once more over at the other in the room. “See you tomorrow night, San?” There the barest of nods in response as the stranger - San, now - stepped further away. Good. 

But - “how do you know him?”

Yeosang paused, door closed behind him. He blinked with brows furrowed. “He’s...a regular.” There wasn’t any further explanation. The man handed him his jacket, head tilting in the direction of the exit. “We should take the back aisles. It’s getting kinda rowdy up there.”

Rowdy wasn’t exactly the right word. There was tension, the same that had come earlier in the evening. But it wasn’t dead quiet as it had been before. There were hushed conversations, strained voices. The customers they did manage to pass by stared intently before continuing what they were saying. One even seemed to be inclined to start some sort of interrogation - wide eyed and mouth ready to fire questions until a firm look from Yeosang made her shut it and scamper off. 

Reaching the door was like reaching the gates that freed him from Hell. The walk back to their apartment was as silent as it had been before. But not as tense, something Wooyoung was grateful for. When they made it back, Yeosang hovered by the door, as if unsure he should stay. 

“If you wanna go back, you can. I won’t hold you here.” 

“It’s not that. It’s just…” The other trailed off, fingers pulling at a chain on his jacket. The metal jangled slightly as he hit down on his lip, contemplating his choice of words, probably. “It’s just. He probably didn’t mean it. I’ve known San for a little bit and he doesn’t seem like a bad guy. I’m sure he has some sort of reason for it.”

There was a lot more to than that. Wooyoung could feel it in his gut, and that made it even worse. He swallowed, catching himself on the counter a minute. “I don’t really want to think about it tonight. Can you make your appeal for him tomorrow or something?”

“Yeah - sorry - I’ll just, uh, put on some tea. Do you like tea? It’ll be something warm and it might help your head.” Without waiting for an answer, the other scampered off to the small kitchen of their apartment, leaving Wooyoung to make his way to his room. 

 

He didn’t remember passing out, but apparently he did. Yeosang woke him just before going to bed himself, something about his sleep cycle being stuck the way it was. Wooyoung could only glance outside to the rising sun. Was this how the other had moved around? He didn’t question it further, leaving his roommate to slink off to bed with barely open eyes. Which left a different question in the air: what would he do now?

Wooyoung was pleased not to have a shift today - courtesy of that disastrous night shift - but it meant his day was much too free. He could, in theory, spend it cleaning up his room. That would eat up some time. The rest of the apartment was clean enough, but if he really wanted to kill time, he could do that.

Wasting the fifteen minutes it took to decide what to do next was well received as he freshened up and decided on going grocery shopping. He usually only did so for himself, considering Yeosang made note to not worry about him whenever their refrigerator was looking a little sparse. But it was probably because he ordered everything himself.

Yeah; that was probably it.

—✥—

Being let off work for two days straight was great. Okay, maybe not _that_ great, but great enough that he’d managed to find his way into a club without fear of working with a hangover. The pound of music shook through the dark backdrop of the club, splashed with a fluorescent haze of colors. It looked like an art project gone wrong. If Wooyoung stared hard enough, he swore he saw actual paintings underneath it all. But it might have been the equally colorful drink in his hands that was doing the heavy thinking.

Because he had come here to avoid doing that himself. Last night had been a mess and he would forget about it with a few good drinks and a _consensual_ lay. Another thing he didn’t want to think about too deeply. Chasing the thought away with a drink, he glanced up as he felt eyes on him. The face was...sort of familiar, a grin spreading over her lips as their eyes met.

It was cue enough to her to come forward, slinking her way through the crowd. The bob was familiar, curving around her face in a sandy red color that matched the equally sandy tones of her skin. She was pretty; he’d give her that. Grin wide, she stepped up to him. He returned the smile with ease, starting to float on an alcohol induced cloud.

“I didn’t know this was your scene. Wooyoung, right?” It was an incredibly dull pickup line but he chuckled all the same and nodded. “I didn’t even know you worked at HALA until last night. We were really missing out with you. I’m Suhyun.” 

“Don’t usually work the night shift.”

“I see. But what brings you here?”

“It’s a club?” Her giggle was borderline incredulous, brows raised at the retort. Like he should have known better.

“Why don’t I get you another one of those drinks and we talk some more?”

He knew her for approximately less than ten minutes, but the glowing green liquid and the velvet tone of her voice was enticing enough that he saw no harm in the gesture. Downing what was left in his cup, he nodded. It was replenished and he was lead off to a far wall with gusto, several people already there vacating the space for he and the girl. Wooyoung thought he saw a flash of fear on their face as they scrambled to get out of the way, but it was probably just a trick of the light. The same light that made the girl’s eyes seem like the same glowing color as her hair. And the drink in his hand - which was really good. Kinda fruity. He took another sip.

“How long you been at HALA?”

He grimaced. Work wasn’t what he came here to talk about, but she did buy him a drink. “Couple months.”

“A couple months and that was your first time working the night shift? How the hell did you manage that?”

“I kept saying no.” He shrugged, taking another sip. He felt himself relax further, the music fading away.

Suhyun barked out a laugh. “So why was San all over you like that? He’s usually a real prickly bitch.”

“Seemed like it.”

“No, I mean it. He usually only talks to Mingi, and like the staff, but everyone else that comes there is ignored. I tried talking to him once and he damn near bolted away.”

“Huh.” Wooyoung noted that that hadn’t happened with him. Maybe because he _was_ staff, and whatever else had gone down between them. His memory was hazy at best at the moment and he was actively doing his best to avoid thinking about the man.

But speak of the devil - and he shall appear.

It was the sunglasses, really, that gave him away. He might not have noticed the man if it weren’t for that. His hat was gone and so was his coat, revealing an all black number that looked unfairly good on him. His steps carried him with purpose as he moved through the crowd, bobbing after someone else. Suhyun’s voice, too, faded as the music had. Or maybe she’d stopped talking. Either way, she didn’t seem pressed to stop him as he practically inhaled the rest of his drink to follow San and whoever he was with.

They say hindsight is 20/20, which made a lot of sense if Wooyoung had stopped to think about it. There were very few things one secluded themselves for at a club, with another person. If San was a murderer of some kind, he’d be a witness and a potential victim. Meaning he could be walking to his death but the liquid courage in his gut didn’t make that clear.

Instead, it propelled him forward after the man and his companion, snaking into the bowels of the club. The private rooms with doors marked had Wooyoung wondering if this was some illegal operation. The sound of music faded, but the pulsing of it remained, a steady beat to contrast his fumbling steps. He was sure the pair had turned a corner, but they were gone when he followed suit.

So, there he was in a dimly lit hallway lined with doors that looked locked and a growing sense of dread in the pit of his stomach. Surely, he shouldn’t be there. And he didn’t know how to get back. He wasn’t exactly in the best headspace to pay attention to those sort of details. Instead there was brewing panic to accompany him in wandering further into whatever this place was. 

Perhaps the only sort of guidance was a sound. A voice, but not really. More like a growl? His brain’s capability to string words together had been compromised, heightened only by the false sense that he was incredibly alert to all that was happening thanks to the alcohol in his system. As he followed it, there was another voice mingling in with the growl. Soft and airy. Familiar and enough to stop him in his tracks. But not for long. His stomach turned, a fresh wave of alcohol hitting him as was on the move again. 

The door was ajar, enough to let the light from within pool out into the hall. Enough to carry the voices and the sound of clothes dropping to the floor to anyone passing by. But also enough to Wooyoung could peer in and bear witness to whatever San was up to. Had this man, the only caging him in against the wall, been tricked the way he had? There was a rough way about it, fingers grappling flesh and prying clothes from limbs. A tear sounded, or something like it, and a soft sob of desperation followed. It was smothered quickly by lips over the other’s. 

Maybe it was the alcohol talking, but he couldn’t help but note that San was pretty in that light. A sort of red bathing over the pair. His eyes were screwed shut, sunglasses nowhere in sight. He watched the man turn his head, his partner mouth at his neck with one hand down his pants and the other gripping his hair. 

Wooyoung wondered if it was this same method that San had used to get him. He could recall, somewhat distant and reaching, being pressed up against a wall in a similar manner. San dropping down to his knees - forced now by the hand in his hair and seemingly all too pleased if the expression on his face was anything to go by - before the man. Despite what it would look, he thought that San had all the control (and he probably wasn’t that far off). Which prompted him to barge in, startling both men. 

“Seriously, San? I turn away for one second and this is what you do?”

He’s not sure if creating some fallacy of a relationship will work, but it’d at least be enough to kill the mood. The man looked from Wooyoung to an equally confused San, fingers loosening from his hair. “Could’ve told me you already had someone already.” There was another growl. Would definitely pass as something out of a movie, if anyone was asking Wooyoung. “I don’t like taking someone else’s sloppy seconds.”

The man zipped his fly, never breaking eye contact with San as he snatched up his shirt. Then a last look at Wooyoung, an appraisal clear as day before he stalked off. Leaving behind a slowly sobering Wooyoung and San, who had the audacity to look downright sick. 

The other man swallowed, rocking back onto his heels. His button up shirt was open, a button or two popped. It looked like silk; delicate stuff. The fresh marks along his neck and chest were budding into a garden of hickeys and bite marks in full bloom. Red against pale skin in redder light. The blue of San’s eyes were dulled by the light only as he glared up at him. 

“What are you doing here?” There wasn’t as much venom in the question as he’d expected. It fell flat, weak. 

“Keeping you from attacking innocent people.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So I kinda struggled with this one a bit, I might go back and edit it later, but I do hope you’ve enjoyed reading. I’ve made a separate twitter for all my fic stuff, @fromtheseouls so you can fine me there and proceed to yell at me.


	3. Chapter 3

The words had sounded a lot more heroic in his head. In fact, the whole scenario had felt like it would be more gallant than it had been. The man hadn’t run out of the room scared; he’d been...annoyed. Which didn’t really fit the narrative he had going in his head of San. The aforementioned man looked more pathetic than predatory.

Lips shiny with spit, he’d closed his eyes. It made him seem tired. Wooyoung could consider that he had made a mistake - which he had, but he wasn’t about to admit that - and that he’d read into the whole situation wrong. It was possible. Unlikely, but possible. He gnawed at his lower lip a moment, letting the silence settle. The need to leave was like an itch at the soles of his feet, but he couldn’t bring himself to do it.

Minutes crawled on agonizingly slow before the silence was broken. “So what are you still doing here?” Did San look feverish? The sweat could have been from what he’d just interrupted, but Wooyoung wasn’t too sure about that. There was only a slight chill in the air, but it would be enough to induce the shivering he was seeing. But - his question.

“I...don’t know how to get back.”

It was met with a scoff, and Wooyoung scowled. Rubbing the back of his neck, he turned away from the other man. He still hadn’t opened his eyes. Maybe he was regretting this. Maybe it _had_ been dumber in practice and not at all as heroic as he had thought it would be. A soft groan sounded behind him. When he turned, San was getting to his feet and feeling around for his sunglasses. 

“I don’t know what your deal is, but - I’m leaving.” 

He chuckled as San fit his shades back on his face, pushing them a little up his sweat slick nose. The other managed to look mildly annoyed, hair mussed and brows furrowed just above the round rim of the sunglasses. 

“You look like you’re about to pass out.”

“You concerned I will?”

“Not really.”

San muttered something he couldn’t quite catch, but Wooyoung wasn’t all that bothered by it. He watched the man shuffle forward, looking more like a zombie from _The Walking Dead_ than anything else. Pitiful - it was pitiful. He waited a moment for the other to get a bit further away before ambling after him. When it looked like San might tip over, he reached out a hand to steady him. The other flinched, glancing back at him.

He shrugged. “Gotta find my way out of here.”

Which was what lead to them walking almost side by side out into the packed club. Nothing had changed despite his small adventure. People were still dancing to music that he could feel in his bones. The spot he’d previously occupied had been vacated and given up to new faces, and the girl he had chatted with was nowhere in sight. Until she was all he could see and he had to step back. 

There was a grin on Suhyun’s face, and the notable presence of drinks in both hands. They were the same glowing green color as the one she’d given him before.

“I see you went to go pick up a friend.” Her grin remained as she extended on cup to him.

Before he could grab it, San cut in, “He doesn’t want it.”

“Aw, don’t be like that Sannie -”

“He doesn’t want it.”

Her lips pulled down into a pout, but she didn’t press the matter. At least not verbally. She kept the cup extended, but drank her own, bopping a little now to the music. San snatched it before Wooyoung could, a sound akin to a whine leaving him as the man downed it.  
“You didn’t have to go that far.” There was a hint of something in her tone. Respect? Admiration?

“With you involved, I did.” As if that were all he had to say, and the two hadn’t just had a conversation about Wooyoung like he wasn’t there, San stalked off. Or maybe hobbled off was better. Fingers pressed to his temple, he could barely walk straight. But he was surprisingly fast. 

It was only when they were outside the club that San allowed himself to slump down to the concrete. His still form was reminiscent of something else, but the alarm buzzing through Wooyoung wouldn’t make room for it. It was only when the other started mumbling that the panic subsided. He was just drunk. He shouldn’t be relieved, he told himself. San’s words were, at best, a confusing jumble that sounded like he was talking to someone. Him?

“I’ll get a taxi and come there,” was probably the clearest thing he heard. Another snort from Wooyoung and it was almost as though San remembered he was there. He could hear the man groan as he got to his feet again. Unsteady, but standing, he walked to the street to hail a taxi. Watching him wave his arm in the darkness was almost entertaining, if it didn’t feel more pitiful.

Which was exactly how they’d wound up in a taxi together. Wooyoung wouldn’t admit that he’d actually felt bad for the guy. Not after what he’d already been through. And even if this particular instance had gotten to this point by his own fault. Never would he admit it.

San didn’t look at him for the whole ride. He wasn’t sure if the man _was_ looking at anything, arms crossed and leaned as far away as possible. There wasn’t a hostile tension between - okay, maybe a little bit, but that was probably all San and not Wooyoung at this point (again, he wouldn’t admit to otherwise) - but it wasn’t comfortable. The driver kept stealing glances, particularly at San, and fidgeted like a child being told to keep quiet when he had something to say. Something big, by the looks of it.

But the other passenger didn’t seem to notice or care. An immovable object radiating an insane amount of heat. Wooyoung hadn’t thought a person could get that hot and still be alive. Which made it even more confusing as to how he didn’t seem bothered by the fact that he would be drowning in sweat.

Maybe it had been a good idea to ask the driver to take him home first. It would mean getting the hell out of there before he saw the end result of whatever was happening. But Wooyoung and ‘luck’ just wouldn’t go together positively in a sentence, he’d say. Just as he reached up to pay for his portion of the ride, so did San. The man sported a black card that he shook impatiently when both the driver and Wooyoung froze. The grimace on his face worsened, marring his features for a moment. His luck was even more shit when San got out, pocketing the card and nearly ran ahead into _his_ building. 

There had to be some sort of record for just how unlucky a person could get. Wooyoung would like to claim it and whatever cash prize came with it. He watched the other man flit up the stairs he knew all too well to the door he had a key to, knocking on it with an urgency that very well could have taken it down. It opened for him so quickly it looked like he fell in, and slammed shut. Leaving him in the hallway with the key in hand to stare at the wooden structure as if he’d been dealt the ultimate betrayal.

Technically, he might as well have been. He could hear the raising of voices - plural, like his roommate had guests and wasn’t working plural - and that was what prompted him to fit his key in the lock and turn it. The scene inside was overly dramatic, everyone coming to halt at once except for a heaving San.

Seonghwa wasn’t really someone he connected with his living space. He looked, for one, immensely out of place with a scarf tied around his head and a...kimono flapping out around him graciously. His mouth was still open with whatever he was saying and the panicked flush of his cheeks was soon replaced with red as he right himself. Was he wearing bunny slippers?

“Welcome back?” It was a different voice. New. The face was familiar, though. He wasn’t exactly in the right space to recall where it was from, but the other didn’t bother filling him in. Neither did Yeosang, who looked a little worse for wear. And holding what looked like a cup of tomato soup.

“So what the _fuck_ is happening in my apartment?”

 

It took a solid thirty minutes for him to understand how any of them were connected. Apparently, according to what his very nervous roommate was saying, was that they had all been here already. That _HALA_ had been closed for the night and they’d decided on a movie and a sleepover, since Yeosang’s sleep schedule was pretty much fucked. Which made it seem like Mingi, the tall blueish green? haired one, was third wheeling on a potential date (Yeosang had burned up at the mention of it, and Mingi himself had nearly choked on the popcorn he was wolfing down; Seonghwa didn’t seem to notice). There were only minor mentions of any sort of connection other than San and Mingi being roommates themselves and the latter was the first person the former thought to call. Which - another weird thing - seemed to explain the suspiciously dark tomato soup that San downed. 

His pallor had improved, so something must be working. Wooyoung glanced at the man on his couch. They’d found him some clothes (Yeosang’s) to wear because apparently he’d also be sleeping over. Too sick to move him, or something like that. The sunglasses were gone, but he hadn’t opened his eyes once since he’d regained the consciousness to remember Wooyoung in the room.

At least, for what it was worth, Wooyoung had gotten the show of a drunken San reaching for the first mug. The needy whine that had left the man was too dramatic not to be funny. As if he were dying and soup was the last thing that could save him. He’d gulped it down messily, the red liquid spilling out the side of his mouth and down his chin. He’d been quick to take a free hand and wipe it up, only to lick it off his fingers and present the mug for more soup, a less strained whine leaving him then.

Wooyoung looked back to Yeosang, brows raised. “Right. Well - I’ll be in my room. Stay out of it.” Turning the rest of the living room, he tacked on an “All of you; I don’t want to get sick.” Mingi nodded and Seonghwa wasn’t paying him any attention, busy smoothing hair out of San’s face with the look of a worried mother. 

“Sleep well,” Yeosang called after him, voice muffled slightly as he shut the door.

 

It had to be - what? 3? 4? - am when he walked out into the living room again. The three amigos were nowhere to be found, but there was San, sleeping on his couch. Curled up and sweaty, he had the one good decorative pillow they had in a vice grip. It looked like it would pop. Scowling, Wooyoung continued on to the kitchen, opening the fridge to grab a water. Or had he come for something else? Early morning wanderings were corrupted by sleep.

Which would explain why he ended up staring over the man, only to realize that it wasn’t San on the couch. It was his friend Mingi, or whatever, there now. The stillness of the apartment was quite as still as he thought it to be. It was still that early morning, sun-not-yet-risen darkness that colored the world in a soft blue light. But there was a very familiar, but different sound that echoed faintly from the one room he least expected.

No one ever really wants to walk in on their roommate during...whatever it was he was doing. But what Wooyoung wanted to take from all this was know whether or not Yeosang was stuck in a delayed onset of pubescent horniness that he would be stuck hearing on any future occasion. Which he didn’t want because no one ever wants that. He’d been considerate enough thus far to keep his many conquests in places they wouldn’t be heard by his roommate or neighbors.

But of course - it wasn’t like he was expecting anything he was seeing. Yeosang had seemed innocent enough (and let’s be honest, sometimes the most bubbly of folks seem like they could be closet freaks but Wooyoung hadn’t been thinking about _Seonghwa_ in that way). There was some (read: a lot) of sexiness in the way his roommate’s eyes had lulled half shut, head tilted and sweat dripping down his neck. In the harsh snap of his hips that sent San forward, and Seonghwa’s cock further down his throat. Tears streaked the man’s face, hips canting back to meet each thrust - and was he smirking? 

It was the kind of smirk that Wooyoung might wear if he won an argument with someone. Or if he’d provoked a one night stand enough to be a little rougher than they had initially intended. But it was a smirk all the same and Seonghwa’s voice cooed out as much, a breathy, “What are your smirking for, pretty? We only just got started.” He wondered how there could still be so much cheer in the man’s voice in a situation like this.

Yeosang’s hips stuttered, a yelp leaving him at something San did. It was kind of hard to see what it was, considering Wooyoung was once again peeping through a crack in a door. It was met with a particularly violent thrust, choking San on Seonghwa’s dick and setting off a chain of events. One being that the roommates locked eyes, both widening as the scene began to process from either perspective. The other being another stuttered thrust that left the man in the middle entirely unsatisfied, throwing his weight back to catch the tail end of it and Seonghwa’s member leaving his mouth with a wet pop in time for the man to come with a groan. 

Equating it to food was probably gross and mildly uncomfortable, but the come that decorated San’s face was like icing over a cinnamon bun. The man had stuck his tongue out to catch some, but a majority of it dripped down his cheeks and a little in his lashes. Drizzled down his chin and over his adam’s apple as he swallowed what he had managed to catch.

But - he still wasn’t satisfied. The other two hadn’t seemed to noticed, Seonghwa stopped by a moment of bliss that had him tilting his head back to bask in it and San was...busy with other things. Yeosang was probably still halfway inside him as San practically threw himself back, shifting both angle and position. His roommate let out a strangled groan as the man sank down on his dick in this new position, attention returned to the man as he had to catch him. An involuntary pistoning of hips and Yeosang’s mouth fit over San’s shoulder to muffle another groan as he came. He gave a good thrust more at the behest of the man he was currently balls deep in, eyes glaze over as he panted against the other’s shoulder. 

A moment longer and San was the last to cum. His roommate let out a whine from overstimulation, grip loosening as San slumped back against him. The smirk had returned, glowing blue eyed gaze impossibly steady as it met Wooyoung’s. 

 

He jolted awake, chest heaving and laying in a pool of his own sweat. His sleep shirt and boxers stuck to his skin like an unwelcome second skin. It was made worse by the tenting in his boxers, sheets kicked down by his ankles. 

“Are you fucking kidding me.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I promised bad smut and that’s what I gave I’m so sorry.


	4. Chapter 4

He hadn’t had a wet dream in years.

 

He was usually the subject of those, or too busy living them out to have the energy for them. It was this thought that kept him in bed. The bizarreness of it all blessedly took the boner tenting his boxers away. And how goddamn gross he felt. He considered simmering in whatever weirdness this was, but no dice. The door to his room opened up and in popped Mingi’s head. The man he’d only just met seemed unfazed by the scene in front of him. “Seonghwa made breakfast.”

 

Wooyoung gulped. The image of his dream was still fresh in his mind and he was 99.9% positive his boner might come back if he thought too much about it. Rather than respond verbally, he nodded and rolled over as the other man returned from whence he came. He groaned, deciding it would be best not to think of what he was rolling through to get out of bed. Dried spunk caked his thighs, probably from when he’d been asleep, and it made walking to the bathroom all the more uncomfortable. A quick shower would be well received.

 

In all of this, though, he found that he was haunted by a particularly strong image. That of San’s eyes in the last bit of the dream. Staring at him as if to invite him to the weird dream orgy that he’d watched. A shudder went through him - one he’d blame on the cold air hitting his skin as he got in the shower - as he remembered. What made this worse, though, was the clarity by which he remembered it all.

 

Who even remembered their dreams that clearly?

 

Toweling himself off once his shower was done, he threw on a clean shirt and some sweatpants before glancing at the clock. His shift today was supposed to be later in the afternoon, which meant he had a solid four hours of nothing to do in an apartment full of people he didn’t really want to see. He wondered if sighing hard enough could force him to pass out and maybe need to be hospitalized and away from them all. Drastic...but this situation called for it. 

 

He’d never dreaded stepping into his own kitchen the way he did then. It was only Mingi and Seonghwa, but that was more than enough, all things considered. The former of the two wrinkled his nose as if smelling something bad before ducking his head nearly into his plate. The latter - back in that ridiculous kimono robe and headscarf - put on the finishing touches of what looked like a five star breakfast. Wooyoung didn’t even think he had some of this stuff in his fridge. 

 

“Sleep well?”

 

He tried not to think about a lot of things that came to mind with the word ‘sleep’. Not trusting himself to speak, he nodded. 

 

“Sorry about everything last night. San’s still sick and Yeosang passed out not long before I sent Mingi to wake you. So he might not be going anywhere for a bit.” The other paused to look up from his own plate, eyes widening slightly. “Slow down; it’s not gonna grow legs and run away.”

 

Maybe Wooyoung had been shoving more food into his mouth than necessary, but it was really the only way he could avoid thinking about the other cooing our praises in the middle of a threesome he dreamed about. Admittedly, his manager had been someone he’d seen as attractive. Who wouldn’t? But on the principle of not dating coworkers, he’d also hyper focused on how much of a mother hen the man was at times. Which made the intrusive memories of his dream all the more unwelcome in his mind. 

 

“I got a lot to do today.” It was a lame excuse but it was something. And it gave him some time to think of a divergence from the topic of sleep. “How long before he leaves?”

 

Seonghwa’s brows furrowed, something like disappointment on his face. “Well, when we moved him into the room he was feeling a little better so he should be well enough to get home before your shift is over.” He licked his lips, swallowing a bit of egg he’d taken. 

 

“Make sure you disinfect everything.” It had left Wooyoung’s lips faster than he’d really thought the words. Mingi looked up then, shooting him a look crossed between incredulous and annoyed. He said nothing as he got up and cleared off the very little left on his plate. He’d wash it later, intentions set on retreating to his room once more. “I’ll see you later.”

 

And while his room was a safe haven, it was also the place with the most reminders. Which, he still had to clean up. A groan left him as he stared down his messed up sheets. He made quick work of removing the evidence. 

  
  
  


It was a solid three days that he went without incident. Which was great and all, considering Wooyoung had enough of it in the those short couple of days dealing with the nonsense. That, and a marathon of parties occupied his time. For a city as sleepy as this, there seemed no shortage of them. On the fourth day, however, his luck gave out. Resting against a sleek black car, he saw the man before he heard him. His suit wasn’t as dark as the car - far from it; the color arrangement was similar to Seonghwa’s preferred yellows and earthy hues. His smile was just as bright. In the back of his mind, he thought it was an interesting look for a debt collector.

 

“Jung Wooyoung?” The man pushed off the car, hands leaving his pockets. 

 

His shift had just ended and he wanted nothing more than to collapse in bed. It’d been a long day of avoiding his manager, still very much disturbed by the dream-that-would-not-be-thought-about. “Yeah?”

 

“Great.” The man’s smile widened. “My name’s Jeong Yunho. One of my clients asked me to meet you.”

 

“What’s this about?”

 

“A...proposition. Contractual. That’s why I was asked to approach you. You’re not getting sued, if that’s what you’re worried about.” It hadn’t been what he was worried about until it was mentioned. He didn’t  _ think  _  he’d done something to get sued over, but people were strange - he’d learned that much in the past few days.

 

But - this felt a little more shady than he would like. “You might a real nice guy, but this feels a lot like a scam, so I’m just gonna be on my way.” Turning on his heel, he got only a step away - not even - before Yunho truly had his attention.

 

“San is my client.” He halted, turning back slowly shortly after. So he  _ was _ getting sued by that prick.

 

“Listen, whatever sort of deal this is -”

 

“You’re not getting sued. You might be getting paid, though, if you agree.”

 

If there was anything that was really screwing him over these days, it was money. It seemed like all his really bad ideas involved it. Which was probably why his train of thought followed that trend and he walked closer to the other.

 

“...How?”

 

This close, he noted that Yunho was as tall as he looked. “I can’t really divulge contract details out in the open like this, otherwise it would violate my own contract. And I like the benefits I get for being discrete; they’re pretty lucrative.” His smile felt a bit more brilliant with that last phrase, but Wooyoung ignored that in favor of the word ‘lucrative’. 

 

The other pulled a business card from the inner pocket of his mustard colored blazer, offering it to him. “Since you seem interested, San would like for the meaning to preferrably take place tonight, but he says there’s no rush. You can call me at the number on the card and I’ll let you know where my office is. If you have an immediate questions, I can answers those now - but not unless you let me buy you a coffee.”

 

“You’re really going for this friendly lawyer vibe, huh?”

Yunho shrugged, still grinning. “Is it working?” Wooyoung rolled his eyes, not bothering to answer as the other checked if his doors were locked.

  
  


“So.” They were nestled by the window of a coffee shop. He wondered why they hadn’t gone into  _ HALA _ for something from their cafe, since it was right there and all. But Yunho insisted on this place. It was nice, at least.

 

The other was watching him intently, brows raised with his expectancy. “So.” It was tossed back at him with ease, and a hint of amusement. But was still relaxed enough that he didn’t feel so pressured. Yunho must have had a lot of practice with these kinds of conversations.

 

“So, how long has San been a client?”

 

The taller chuckled. “Can’t say.” He took a sip of his drink - he’d heard the order; it was loaded with sugar and he wondered if that was to make up for the inherent ruthlessness of being a private lawyer.

 

“Okay, but could you like...spitball on why he’s trying to form a contract with me?”

 

He looked pensive at that. “Maybe.” Another sip. “If I had to guess, it’s because you’re interesting. And pretty.” Wooyoung almost choked on his own drink at that remark, but Yunho seemed unfazed. He continued. “San puts a lot of weight into contracts. Word is bond, and all that. Or, well, deals in general. Those are very serious things from his perspective, and what I’ve learned from experience is that it holds true.”

 

“So, what, he’s trying to make a pass at me?”

 

“I didn’t say that. I just said you were pretty and interesting. Don’t most people like those things?”

 

“Interesting? I’ve seen him all of three times.”

 

“Oh, there’s something I can correct. Five.”

 

“Five what?”

 

Yunho blinked, as if confused as to why Wooyoung wasn’t catching on. “You’ve seen him five times, technically. First one you might remember a little of. Last one - I think he said you probably think was a dream.” His cheeks darkened and Yunho nodded. “Yup, that was it.”

 

“So - so I didn’t dream what I saw?”

 

“Nope. And that’s what’s at the heart of the contract - probably.” Another sip, and Yunho pulled away from his cup with an almost desolate expression. Must have finished his drink faster than he’d intended.

 

“You’re enjoying this, aren’t you?” It was an accusation that slipped out on its own. Probably not smart to mouth off to the lawyer of the dude trying to force hush money on him. 

 

The other looked up, smile returning slowly. It felt off. “Indeed, I am.”

  
  


And that was how Wooyoung ended up staring down the ivory card on his kitchen counter. He was dressed up and ready to go nowhere. Ripped black jeans, a pale blue turtleneck - it might be spring, but there was still a chill in the air that made it acceptable; and the marks on his neck from the night before were probably not super professional - and a leather jacket he found in the closet. 100% positive it was Yeosang’s but it looked nice. And maybe he’d combed his hair, put on some eyeliner...but that wasn’t something he was particularly keen on addressing.

 

“Are you going to stare at forever or are you going to call so we can get the address?”

 

He’d be lying if he said he didn’t jump out of his skin. As much as he appreciated Jongho coming with him to this meeting as a witness - Yunho had said this was acceptable; “Whatever makes you comfortable” - he didn’t appreciate the impatience. The younger had only been there for ten minutes, but he was incessant on them getting on with it. Which actually did make sense considering Wooyoung had hours to think about just showing up for the meeting.

 

“I will when you’re not breathing down my neck.”

 

Jongho probably wasn’t the best person to include in all of this. But he was only one he knew that was unrelated enough that he could be unbiased. Sorta. They’d met through a string of parties and maybe the older hitting on the younger before it was made clear he was someone’s designated driver. Wooyoung had admired that sense of responsibility, though it was often contradicted by his impeccable crackheadedness. The other shook his head as he retreated to the couch, making himself comfortable while he waited.

 

It felt like an eternity before he’d pressed the call button. And like another when he heard the phone ringing. And when he finally got someone to pick up, Yunho didn’t sound too pleased. Nice lawyer gig was up, it seemed.

 

“Hello?” He sounded on the border of annoyed an exasperated that anyone would be calling him at this hour.

 

“It’s Wooyoung.”

 

A pause. “Oh! Yes! Hello, I take you’ll be seeing us tonight?” The ‘us’ was probably he and San.

 

“Yeah. Just give me the address.” He waited a moment. It sounded - and really, he was wanting to blame his brain for being stuck on what he now knew was never a dream - an awful lot like Yunho was buckling his pants. The clack of metal was loud enough to match the size of the belt he’d seen the man wearing earlier. It wouldn’t be the first time that Wooyoung had interrupted something within the last week. Another thing he didn’t want to think about. 

 

For a brief moment, he considered calling the whole thing off and not showing up. But that was shot down quickly enough by Jongho practically leaping off the couch to get to the door. He must have heard the short exchange.

 

“Off we go to get paid to shut your mouth.”

 

When they get there, the building is as upscale as he expected it to be. It looks like everyone who works in it is expensive and a lot more than Wooyoung could ever scrape together to pay for. And if he had any need to go against them, there’d be no hope. That’s the sort of feeling the gothic building with the large letters ‘KQ’ set on the side of it gave off. He swallowed, taking the steps as slowly as he could. Underdressed was an acceptable word for how he felt.

 

The secretary behind the desk barely looked up before directing them to an elevator. He’s focused and unconcerned, even as the pair lingered like they were confused. But that was not what Wooyoung wanted to focus on. Instead, he wanted to focus on what he thought were the legs of a spider creeping up the man’s arm. Jongho noticed as well if the grip on his arm was anything to go by. Rather than question it, they hurried off to the elevator. The sooner this meeting was done the better.

 

There was only one floor marked as a meeting room, and the assumption was made that that was where they needed to go. The slow lift of the contraption was a dull hum in the background that fueled Wooyoung’s anxiety and the thought to hit another floor button to slow their progress was strong, but late. Too soon the doors opened up to the meeting room, a large table smack in the middle with chairs lining it. It felt like a board room in one of those legal dramas. He had to remind himself that, technically, he was involved in some legal drama of his own.

 

Yunho smiled brilliantly over at him. “You came. Half expected you to ditch us here.”

 

Wooyoung chuckled nervously. Jongho elbowed him in the side as another new face appeared. Confusion struck and for a moment it was quiet before Yunho seemed to come to his senses. “Oh, this is San’s witness; Kim Hoongjong. I thought it was only fair since you’ve brought…”

 

“Choi. Jongho.” Nerves were infectious. The intimidating aura of the two - three - others in the room was that of people experienced. Like they’d seen it enough times to know how it worked out. Which meant that none of this, really, was in Wooyoung’s favor.  _ Fuck _ .

At the head of the table, already seated and flipping through the contract was San. He hardly acknowledged them, sunglasses in place. The jacket was back - Wooyoung would never admit that he thought the look was kind of hot, especially not in this setting - and the amount of jewelry the man wore had doubled. Rings on almost every finger, a trail of earrings going down his ears and several simple chains around his neck (Wooyoung noted that he wasn’t the only thinking about the chill, the black turtleneck almost matching his own). His arms were bare, though. That was new. From what he could see were thick black lines that might be tattoos.

 

Shutting the booklet, the man looked up - or he thought he did - and stared the pair down. And then -

 

“Shall we get started?” 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> wow no one's dick is out in this chapter. amazing. also i guess i made it really clear by this point that i like ending chapters with one-liners bc I'm cheesy.


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i dunno how contracts work i'm not a law major that's not my shtick don't @ me

Part of Wooyoung had expected to see some lengthy contract, a thick volume of pages full of legal jargon he wouldn’t be able to understand. Not the simple five pages (“Two of those are just for the confidentiality agreement and terms. Didn’t want you getting tripped up on it,” Yunho had explained when he first handed over the contract) that sat in front of him. He was beginning to feel a little grateful towards the consideration of the smiling lawyer, despite the brewing uncertainty in his gut. The contract was still mostly vague, though. There were lines that needed more context ( _Parties must adhere to limitations set between them_ ) and some that seemed...oddly phrased.

Who even wrote a contract for stuff like this? The vague parts definitely piqued his interest, but every time Wooyoung had to read about the ramifications of some sort of violation, he felt his stomach coil. _Punishment_. Would they take it to court? There was a mention of ending payments, and he could deal with that, but -

“I get an allowance?” There wasn’t a number specified, but it was there.

San flipped through to get to the same page, nodding. “It only seems fair to me.” 

“This is sounding more like you’ll be my sugar daddy than you trying to shut me up.”

“Why on earth did you think I was trying to shut you up?”

Wooyoung’s brows rose. He could think of a few reasons for that. He could remember them vividly, too. But then, his mind wasn’t on that. It was more on a single word he thought was misplaced in all of this.

“And you have _satyriasis_?” What even was that? It sounded like something made up, but also like it belonged in the vocabulary of someone with an obsession for mythology.

“Yes, you could call it that.” San nodded as if that explained everything. “There’s...more to it, but I won’t be able to explain in this sitting. Not until you’ve signed.”

“What makes you think I’ll sign this?”

“Why wouldn’t you?”

Good point. Why wouldn’t he? If the allowance was one thing, it appeared as though San was the wealthy type. He had no idea what the man did for a living but it filled his bank account well. But, still, there are things to consider. For one, he didn’t know what satyriasis was. Two, he wasn’t sure if this was supposed to be hush money done in installments or some sort of contract binding him to secrecy for the rest of his life. Three, there was a lot of money in this. His greed would probably get him killed one day.

“And when do we discuss the finer details, if not here?”

The other shrugged. He was positive at this point that the inked lines on his arms are tattoos even if he can’t see them properly from his spot at the table. He wondered why he didn’t notice them before, when he just so happened to peek at the man fucking his roommate. “Whenever you want. Just not here. While I respect your wanting a witness, there are still things that can’t be discussed with him present.” Wooyoung could see a perfect brow raised over the top of his sunglasses.

He was right, and he knew it. Just as Wooyoung had thought; he knew his way around this particular situation. He sighed, staring down at the fine black print on the pages in front of him. It _was_ compelling. He meant this seriously. The brewed distaste towards the man that had started from the first ( _ahem_ , second) night that they’d met was going flat. There was every chance that he was misunderstood something here, but it didn’t stop him from picking up the pen and signing. It felt a lot more binding then a phone contract, that was for sure.

The other copy slid over to him, already signed by San. He gave over his, glancing down at the pretty cursive that lines the bottom of the page. It reminded him of the calligraphy on those cards in the back of a dollar store. Scrawling, pretty script giving condolences or wishing well. He swallowed, signing off his name. And that was it.

Blinding; a fitting word for the way Yunho’s lips curled into a smile. Blinding in that it felt wrong in this whole contract situation. He sent what appeared to be a knowing look San’s way, any returned gesture suddenly obscured by Jongho turning Wooyoung’s chair around to face him. There might have been a smile on his face, but there was something deranged in the way he stared the other dead on.

“Holy shit, man, you’re a sugar baby now.”

Oh, _God_ , he was right.

The pair moved in a haze. Or, well, Wooyoung did. Enough of one have missed that San was now headed to the elevator behind them. The sweet smell of flowers lingered the man, jewelry jangling as he leaned forward to press the button for the lobby. When the doors close, he can see Yunho waving at them. San’s witness is nowhere to be seen.

What should be only a minute or two in the elevator feels like an eternity. Wooyoung has only been this close to San about twice - that he really remembers - and there were more things he was noticing. Like, for one, how ridiculously well-structured his face was. His mind immediately jumped back to the wet dream fodder he’d witnessed and he has to look away from the reflection in the mirrored elevator walls. Jongho elbowed him again, eyes wide. The doors slid open to the lobby before he can say anything and then San stepped out and faced them. He pulled out a sleek black phone, face unreadable beyond those sunglasses. But it was like he was waiting for something.

The pair could only stare on for a moment, San’s hand shooting out to catch the door before it closed again. “Your number.”

“My what?”

“Give me your phone number.”

Oh. Okay, so the delay in realization was enough of an embarrassment that he felt his cheeks flame. And while he couldn’t see it, he felt the other’s eyes boring into him. “If that’s too hard to do, I can always just drive you home and get your number from Yeosang.”

“Please do drive him home.” Jongho shoved him forward, stepping out of the elevator before the doors could close again. “It means I have one less stop to make.”

“Seriously?” Wooyoung couldn’t help the dismayed squeak that left him. His friend was throwing him into the maw of a metaphorical wolf. Or maybe an actual one. San’s brows rose.

“Perfectly reasonable.” It was San he was looking at incredulously now. “We can also discuss any questions you have. Car’s out front.” And away he went, not bothering to wait for the other.  


The car ride wasn’t awkward, but it was certainly charged with something. He recognized the colored hair of the driver to be Mingi’s, his own shades propped up on his head. The small window that divided the front from the backseat made it feel like they were in their own little space.

“So.”

It startled Wooyoung out of his reverence for the plush leather seats. The other’s voice was easy, gentle. “So?”

“You had questions before.”

“I-” Right, he did. It had all seemed...odd. Details that he needed. “What the hell is satyriasis?”

“It’s the same as nymphomania.”

“And you have it?”

“No.”

He blinked. “No? But it’s on the contract.”

“It’s the closest explanation that wouldn’t be giving everything away to uninvolved parties.” Jongho, in this case, he meant. Wooyoung swallowed, throat suddenly dry. “But it’s not...far from the truth.” He could have sworn he heard a drop of shame in San’s voice. The other seemed to consider his next words, slowly removing his sunglasses. In the darkness of the backseat, windows tinted and the sky darkening, the blue of his eyes glowed brighter.

San still looked hesitant, gaze down, as he spoke. “How much do you know about witches?”

“That they used to be persecuted and burned at the stake? I don’t really follow on how this applies to this conversation.”

“For someone who works at a specialty bookstore geared around the occult, you know very little.”

“I take offense to that.”

San sighed, slumping back against the seats. He looked tired. Not to the same degree as he had been in the club, bathed in red light. But the kind of tired no less that he could hear in his next words. “Maybe it would be in your best interest to do some more research. I didn’t think you’d be _this_ clueless.” His voice strained towards the end before he sighed a second time.

“At the very least, do you know what curses are?”

“Aren’t those, like, bad luck things witches cast on people. Like, spells.”

“That’s...yes and no. Witches aren’t the only ones that can bestow curses.” The car rolled to a stop, presumably a red light. It was quiet a moment. Wooyoung was getting tired of this word choosing. It made him feel like a child who couldn’t handle important information, despite all of this being ridiculous. “Demons -”

“Demons?”

“Demons.”

“ _Demons_. Horned fuckers that take your soul.”

“Typically, yes.”

A beat. Then - “Are you trying to say you’re a demon?”

“No!” The car jerked forward slightly, and San reached over to close the window separating Mingi from them. “No. I’m- I’m not. I wasn’t; not before.” He shook his head. “Anyways, demons can also bestow curses and unfortunately, I’ve been given a very specific kind of curse.”

“Why do your eyes glow like that?” The conversation was turning a little heavy. Or, well, he could understand what wasn’t being said by the man and he really didn’t want that particular detail in the moment. Start small, work his way up.

San seemed taken aback by the question, as if it were - and it was, kinda - the least important thing to be concerned about. The smile on his face was rueful when he answered, features softening.

“Witchmark.”

 

“I think it’s all a bunch of shit and you shouldn’t have just left me like that because I had to ride home with a wackadoo.” He can hear Jongho snort through his the weak speaker of his phone.

“It probably wasn’t that bad.” His phone buzzed. He swiped at it messily with his pinky, pulling up the text that had come in. An unknown number.

**202-555-0110**

_coming up_

_save this_

No one he knew, and maybe it was just a wrong number sort of situation. “No, it really was.”

“What did he say, then?”

Wooyoung bit his lip. As much as he would love to expose the other, he really wasn’t about to breach a contract. “Can’t tell. The contract, remember.”

It sounded like the other had said something about a _stupid contract_ and he’d have to agree. He was stuck in it for another...week or so, as per the trial run he’d managed to niggle the man into. A couple weeks of this and he’d be fine to walk off with whatever money he’d been given. And leave all of the insanity behind.

“You signed it, though. Not me.”

“And I’m the one with an allowance now, so who’s really winning this argument?”

This is what sugar babies had to deal with anyways, right? Complying to the whims of bizarre, creepy old men. At least he wasn’t dealing with the old man part of this arrangement. If anything, he was sure he could count himself lucky.

“Anyways, you’re an ass, but thanks for driving me. I won’t be paying you back.”

“Stingy.”

His only response was to slurp up the noodles in his instant cup of ramen before hanging up. Just in time for there to be a knock on his door. His suspicion was that it was another package delivery for Yeosang. A soft groan left him as he got up, padding over to the door with a lot less enthusiasm. The knock sounded again, a little harder this time. “Hold _on_ , damn.” Even before he could get the chain latch off all the way, San was pushing through the door.

There were plenty of words that could be used to describe the man striding into his apartment with ease. For one, _rude_ stood out. He glanced around the apartment as if he were seeing for the first time, a small despairing sound leaving him when he turned back to face Wooyoung and that was when it really got strange.

Somewhere in the back of his mind, he’d remembered that he had given his number to San before walking into his building. A random thing to recall in lieu of the fact that he could be remembering their discussion about demons from earlier on. Especially considering there had been mention of horns. The same kind of horns that curved out of the man’s forehead, lifting strands of red and black hair away from his face. His eye- the witchmark, as he’d called it - were as brilliant as they had been in the car no more than a couple hours ago.

“Yeosang’s not here.” The words felt and sounded as dumb as he thought they did the moment he’d said them.

“I know.” The smile on his lips wasn’t unnerving, but it made Wooyoung’s stomach do a nervous flip. Too inviting, almost sweet. “I would still be here if he was, but I didn’t come for him, as lovely as he is.”

A beat passed between them, San cocking his head to the side. “I texted.” And then, “You’re scared.”

“You said you weren’t a demon.”

“I’m not.”

“Explain the horns.”

San pointed at him as if he’d won the grand prize. “That’s what I came here to talk to you about. Or, well, what you’ll be studying.” It was then that he lifted a bag Wooyoung hadn’t noticed before. With his hair parted the way it was, San’s eyes were on full display. Mesmerizing, more so than his smile and the soft chuckle that came with his very obvious confusion. The other had closed the space between them quickly, and the scent of ramen they had previously filled the apartment was replaced with a thick cloud of something sweet and unnamable.

“You’ve got an awful lot to learn so I thought I would stop by and help you out.” This close, Wooyoung could see the red dusting San’s cheeks. Lips shiny from licking them, tongue swiping over the bottom. And then he backed off, head tilted back and gaze teasing, to the same degree as his smile. It was quiet before he turned and waltzed over to the couch. “Well, come on, then.”

“I haven’t exactly studied in a while.”

To this, San’s smile widened.

“Don’t worry; I make studying fun.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> this has over 1k hits im-   
> thanks so much i hope y'all are enjoying this as much as i am


	6. Chapter 6

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Some times you need a helping hand to get some research done.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> uh here's about 2k of terrible smut pls enjoy

He hadn’t actually expected that they would be studying.

Or doing some semblance of it. San was draped across his couch (that suddenly looked like a sad excuse for one under him) with an arm around his shoulder and lips at his ears. In theory, he knew what was being said to him, but couldn’t process it with the other man as close as he was. His free hand was used to point out important vocab words and god, why were his lashes so long?

“You listening?”

He nodded. “Yeah, totally.”

“Then what did I just say?”

It was an obvious corner to be backed into, but it was hard to think straight with all of _San_ this close. He was different; still cool and collected, but an edge of sensuality that was missing before. Or, well, that he’d seen and forgotten. A knowing smirk settled over his lips as he glanced down at the book, dog-earring the page. It was the “Idiot’s Guide to Demons,” something that San had chuckled about when he’d pulled it from the bag. He remembered stocking that one last week.

Admitting the obvious felt like another trap, but it had to be said. “You’re really distracting.”

“So, I’ve been told.” He didn’t like the way the other’s smirk widened. “But you know what helps studying?”

“What?”

“Having an incentive.”

It was more surprise than anything that had his hips jerking up into the hand palming him through his sweatpants. The chuckle that followed was all too satisfied. As if his own body continued to betray him, he felt his dick twitch under San’s hand. The other’s brows rose. He’s not sure what for, but the confusion doesn’t stop the hitch in his breath at the generous fondling of his crotch.  “Now, I’ll need you to read aloud for me. Can you do that for me, sweetie?”

“Sweetie?” It’s embarrassing that he reacted to it at all, but he does and his reward was another one of those melodic chuckles. “I can.”

“Good. Then, get to it.”

He regretted saying he could. Sure enough, the words were leaving him and he could parse some meaning from them, but there it was. That damned hand on the _outside_ of his sweats, tracing the line of his hardening cock torturously slow. The soft hums that left San as he leaned closer, affirming that something was being read properly, was of zero help to him in this moment. He wondered how the other thought that this would be any sort of boon to his focus, but in a marginal way it is helping. He _was_ learning something here and it was that San was a demon whether he said he was or not.

“Huh.” Wooyoung faltered over a word, brows furrowed. “S-so demons don’t always want something in return?”

“Nope.” San’s hand didn’t stop, per say, but if he could have been any slower - that was what he was doing. “It’s about intent when you summon one. You need a reason. Like I did.”

“What was your reason?”

There wasn’t an answer given. Maybe as some sort of diversion, San finally slid his hand inside his sweatpants. The skin on skin contact sent a shudder through him, a sharp inhale the only thing he got out before San was prompting him to read again. And maybe he noticed the way the other man was paying a tad bit too much attention to the precum leaking out of his cock. The finger swiping over his tip was really no more than brushing over it.

“Curses. Fun. So they can curse you, like you said before.” He wasn’t trusting his ability to focus outside of paraphrasing what he was skimming over. “There are - _shit_ \- different classifications of them. I knew that, sorta.”

“Oh? What, you watch a lot of Supernatural or something?”

“I - yeah, a little.”

“Hm.” It sounded disapproving but the confirmation of as much was San’s hand stopping altogether. “As great as that show is, it isn’t entirely right.” No, of course it wouldn’t be.

No movement, no friction; nothing. It would be a lie if to say he wasn’t aching for the other to get back to touching him, and he had a feeling San knew. The smirk was still settled over his lips, fingers still wrapped around his shaft.

“Incubus and Succubus are one and the same.” He was rewarded with a quick pump that turned into a couple more. The pace was faster than before and Wooyoung wasn’t sure if he should be thanking or cursing him. “Just in this weird orgy cycle thing. That never - _christ_  - never ends. Or begins? I - I don’t know.”

“You’re doing just fine, sweetie, keep going.”

The praise has him jerking his hips up once more, teeth digging into his bottom lip because he doesn’t want to give San the satisfaction of hearing him moan. “Exchanges with demons are not always transactional. And when they are, the price is equivalent to the - _fuck, please_ \- r-request.”

If his smirk could have been wider, it went beyond that at the whine that left Wooyoung. “Good boy. You know enough now.” He half expected the other to say something about a reward, but his own body betrayed him once more.

“Did you ask for something you couldn’t pay for?”

It was a valid, if inappropriately timed, question. Wildly inappropriate. He was right there on the brink of possible coming in his sweats, San’s minstrations on his cock ramping up. Until they weren’t because he’d opened his big mouth. It wasn’t a total darkening of his expression. The smirk disappeared, chased away by the seriousness of the question. Instead, his lips pressed into a flat line, hand withdrawing from Wooyoung’s sweats.

“Let’s move onto the other book, sweetie.”

The pet name dripped with too much sweetness. He whined. Wooyoung had the feeling he was really in for it. The next book was thicker than the last, and he remembered it as something else he’d stocked before. The blazing fire depicted on the front was memorable, mainly because it held the illusion that the faces of the women engulfed in flames changed in their anguish when you turned the book even slightly. Thinking about it was enough of a mood killer and maybe he could forgive himself for fucking up just then if San’s hand wasn’t back in his pants.

Together, they flipped to a chapter about witch deals and he was positive he was sensing a theme. “Read, sweetie.” Not as much sweetness, but stern and accompanied by a slight tightening of his fingers. The pace was back to being painfully slow, his other hand tracing circles at the back of his neck.

“Witches are often classed as neutral creatures, with an alignment with either the spirits or the divine being entirely optional.” Maybe his voice shook; his thighs trembled. San was mouthing words against his jaw, pace speeding up incrementally. Focus? Close to nonexistent. “Some are born naturally gifted, others gaining power through their deals.” He was smart enough not to ask questions this time.

“Almost done, sweetie.”

Wooyoung swallowed down the whine that left him as San’s hand slid beyond his shaft, teasing the fantasy of his fingers on his balls before creeping back up. “A covenless witch is vulnerable, but powerful. They find themselves - _gonna cum_ \- susceptible to being preyed upon by malicious spirits and creatures, as well as witch hunters.” An unsexy sentence, but it didn’t stop San nipping at his jaw, other hand tilting his head just so that the other’s teeth could catch the skin at the junction between his jaw and his throat. Another groan in response, and roll of his hips.

“Witchmarks are what differentiates a witch from a human, among other things. The universal, and most common marks, are found in the eyes, often in changes of color.” Okay, so maybe he’d managed to get that whole sentence out a lot faster than he’d thought. And once more he was _right there_ and - San stopped. Halted as if his battery had run low. He hadn’t realized he’d closed his eyes until they snapped open to meet the other’s.

“I could have told you that.”

There weren’t any rules to this game and that was the sole reason behind the whine he couldn’t contain. Or at least that's what he told himself. A needy sound to accompany the furrow of his brow, high and petulant. San chuckled again and he’d describe it as borderline sadistic. “I’m sorry, sweetie. You’ve been a very good boy so I’ll give you your reward.”

Wooyoung is both elated to be done with this farce of studying, and terrified of what his reward is. The other had gotten him to the brink twice and a third time doesn’t seem so far off. It wasn’t a sensation he was enjoying too much and _god_ San was too pretty to be allowed to tease him like this. Especially since he could figure this might turn into a regular thing as per their new contract.

San settled between his thighs, hands creeping up to the top of his sweatpants with his smirk returned in all its glory. He had another thought about how long his lashes are, how pretty his face is and it felt that much more sinful when the other pulls his sweats down past his thighs. His dick twitches at the sudden cool air around it, no longer suffocating in the cotton material. San made an appreciative noise in the back of his throat and Wooyoung totally didn’t feel a rush of pride hit him.

“You’re no Seonghwa, but seeing it out somewhere other than a dingy bathroom is nice.”

“What does Seonghwa have to do with this?”

San shrugged. “He’s got a horse dick.”

Before he could ask anything - a whole lot of questions bubbled up with that statement - San’s mouth is around his cock and he can’t think of anything else. Or maybe he could because it overlapped with the memory of a similar experience not all that long ago. With San on his knees and sucking the soul out of him in much the same way he was now. The image hits him hard, burned into his eyelids when he closed his eyes.

He was convinced, by all accounts, that San had to be a demon. Not a witch, not with that mouth. A different breed of evil worked his tongue over the parts he could reach with an eager suck. Wooyoung threaded fingers through his hair - soft, really soft - and the other moaned himself. It reverberated down his shaft and if that didn’t hit him gut with the urge to come, then it was probably the way the other looked up at him when he opened his eyes again. Blue eyes peered up through dark lashes, red lips stretched out around his cock. _Pretty_. Pretty evil, as the man shifted forward and took his full length with zero hesitation. He felt his insides knot up at the brush of horns against his skin, cool in contrast to the nose pressed into flesh lower down.\

Wooyoung felt him swallow, hips bucking up into the warmth of his mouth. He wasn’t sure when he started, but he’s singing praises to the man like his life depended on it. He felt San pull off of him, mouthing down his shaft to nip at his balls before traveling back up - just in time to latch on again as he came. Fingers dug into his thighs, clammy with his sweat and he’s sure it might bruise later on.

He doesn’t want to think about how high his voice gets, soft mewls raising in octave as San eagerly swallows his load. It bordered dangerously on overstimulation, the other pulling off with a trail of spit connecting them still. His lips are swollen, cheeks a rosier red than they were before. But they were pulled up into a smile that felt too sweet for the moment, voice even sweeter.

“Good job, sweetie.”

**Author's Note:**

> Uh, feel free to yell at me in the comments, or on twitter @morbidsucre or tumblr at the same url. it motivates me. yay for first fic? please consider buying me a coffee: ko-fi.com/lemvnade


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